


And That's How It Happened

by spicehnoodles



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Humor, Romance, mainly fluff and banters, or not really romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-03
Updated: 2014-04-03
Packaged: 2018-01-18 00:47:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1408813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spicehnoodles/pseuds/spicehnoodles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meg hates poetry, especially when it involves her featherbrained ex-boyfriend. Oh, and Sam unknowingly plays Cupid with an unwilling Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And That's How It Happened

**Author's Note:**

> Compared to the other megstiel stories I have read thus far, this is pretty mediocre. I just wanted to take a breather from the intense and smexy-filled stories I have read. Wanted to write a simple AU story. I hope you enjoy! It's my first one. :)

Meg is just about ready to either rip off her eardrums or Sam’s tongue.

 

“And that’s why the person didn’t use the post-colonialist approach for their essay,” he is currently droning on about. “The poem was clearly about how colonialism is portrayed in the author’s perspective and the ethics of it, influencing this person to use moral and philosophical criticism. It’s pretty understandable.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, Bullwinkle. You had me at blah, blah, blah … Now, are you done boosting up your ego — or lack thereof — so I can leave?” she says rudely.

 

Gigantor sighs. “Meg, I was just helping you. You wouldn’t want to continue making the same mistakes especially with this professor. Trust me.”

 

“Because I seriously give a shit about Professor Dickbag.”

 

“Watch out; he might hear you.”

 

“Newsflash, Sammy boy: I don’t give a shit.” Meg examines her nails for a brief moment. “Can you disappear now?”

 

As always, the freakin’ Winchester does not listen. What is up with them? “Professor Crowley loves poetry, Meg. He also loves analysis and interpretation essays that are well-written and meticulous. I just wanna give you a heads up, that’s all. I mean, you did date Cas before and he’s my buddy, so — ”

 

Her reply is quick and sharp. “And what the hell does that pile of naivety have to do with this conversation?”

 

Sam looks befuddled by that question. “Well, you dated him and I just thought — ”

 

Meg invades his personal space to make her statement clear enough to embed itself into his brain. “Listen closely, Winchester. Just because I dated that idiot doesn’t mean you can be my little guardian angel. I attended college before; I know the ropes around this joint as well as how to handle the profs around here.” And with that, she gives him one last glare before sauntering away.

 

Dean, who was discreetly watching from the sidelines, approaches his little brother. He pats him on the back and lets out a chuckle. “Ahhh, that bitch,” he says lightly.

 

“Dude, c’mon. Cas told us to watch over her. We promised,” Sam reminds him, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder.

 

“And why can’t the son of a bitch do it himself? He goes to school here, too. She’s not our responsibility, Sam.” Dean casts a look at the direction Meg went. “The bitch doesn’t want your help anyways.”

 

“Yeah, but — ” The taller Winchester breaks off with a sigh. “I mean, Cas was pretty down when they broke up. He still kinda cares about her.”

 

Dean shudders. “I don’t see why he would go for her, though.”

 

“Yeah, like how you went after — ”

 

“I swear to God, Sam — if you mention that little mistake, I will pummel you to the ground.”

 

“But the hands should’ve given it away.”

 

“Fuck. Off.”

 

—

 

Castiel shifts in his seat uncomfortably. His blue eyes dart around the library nervously.

 

Meg has her arms crossed over her chest. Her brown eyes are busy glaring at the person seated across her.

 

Sam is standing between the two of them. His green eyes are sheepish.

 

In the comfort of his Impala, Dean takes a bite out of his cheeseburger and then mutters, “Breaking news: trainwreck at the local library.”

 

The tallest man rubs his hands together. “Okay,” he announces, hoping to alleviate the tension in the room. “Let’s get started, huh?”

 

“Sam Winchester, I cordially invite you to the deepest pits of hell along with my V.I.P. guest Castiel Novak,” Meg sneers. “I’d invite your brother Dean as well, but I’m afraid he would enjoy it too much.”

 

Castiel attempts to stop fidgeting and glances at Sam. “What is the meaning of this, Sam?” he asks.

 

“We’re here to survive Crowley’s class together.” His voice contains enthusiasm and Meg wants to destroy it.

 

“I can take on the smarmy dick by myself, Bullwinkle. I don’t need your help nor do I need the presence of a man who looks like he can’t hold his piss.”

 

Castiel’s jaw locks at that. “I do not understand why we need to associate with drop-outs,” he shoots back.

 

Meg scowls hard at that.

 

Sam rubs his hand down his face. “This is gonna be a long one,” he mutters to himself.

 

—

 

_“I have the right to say it.”_

 

“No, you don’t.”

 

_“Eh, too late. I fuckin’ told you so.”_

 

Sam takes a quick glance behind his back. Castiel is pouring his attention over the papers splayed in front of him. Meg is doing the same except she is clutching her ballpoint pen much too tightly.

 

_“What’s today’s insult highlights?”_

 

Sam lets out his millionth sigh. “Uptight bastard and demonic wench.”

 

 _“Ha! That’s just rich — and accurate.”_ Dean lets out another laugh.

 

“It’s not funny, Dean.”

 

_“Oh, but my brother, it is.”_

 

At the table, Castiel’s right eye twitches. Meg is incessantly tapping her finger on the table, preventing him from thinking properly.

 

“Could you stop being so disruptive?” he demands quietly.

 

Meg smirks and continues.

 

“Meg.”

 

“What, are you gonna cry?”

 

That hit a nerve. Castiel hates being referred to as a child. It results from being the youngest of his brothers. “You are the bane of my existence.”

 

“Oh, and you’re just the sunshine of my life, sweetheart,” she snaps back.

 

“Perhaps your mere existence is to be an abomination to everyone.”

 

“Yeah, like you’re any better. You never decide for yourself. You always have to have someone bossing you around.” Meg lifts an eyebrow. “Maybe that’s why you are so submissive in bed.”

 

His blue eyes glint with anger, but — “If I recall correctly, you screamed a certain word repeatedly that night in your room. Hmmm, what was it? It started with a letter _P_ … ”

 

Meg grips her pen even tighter, but before she could throw it at him, Sam appears. “Whoa, whoa. Simmer down, guys. Meg, your pen is going to break. Cas, your fingernails are creating dents on that table,” he says calmly.

 

“I cannot stand to be in the same room with this asshole, Sam. I’m leaving.” She makes a motion to stand up, but Sam stops her by placing a hand on her shoulder.

 

“‘Get your stinking paws off me, you damned dirty ape,’” Meg says angrily. She likes saying movie references because one: Clarence never understands it and two: Sam finds it lame and annoying (something she got from Dean).

 

Sam rolls his eyes but removes his hand. “You’re useful for this, Meg.”

 

“I am not entitled to do anything — ”

 

“Oh, I see. That reference is from ‘Planet of the Apes,’” Castiel says, a small triumphant smile on his face. “Dean showed me that movie a few days ago.”

 

Meg snorts at his slowness, but she couldn’t help thinking how cute he looks. As soon as he uttered Dean’s name, however, the thought doesn’t last long.

 

“What else does Dean show you, Clarence?” The double entendre is so clear she knows that even Castiel can hear it.

 

He furrows his eyebrows at her but doesn’t reply. She knows that he knows better than to reply since she’ll find a way to bite back again.

 

Sam shakes his head before taking a seat between them. “Fuckin’ Crowley,” he mutters to himself.

 

—

 

“It’s dead silent, Dean. I gotta say — I actually prefer them insulting each other every few minutes or so.”

 

_“That just reeks trouble. Either they actually wanna cooperate in your little threesome or someone’s scheming against another. Just hope it’s not them against you, Sammy.”_

Sam pinches the bridge of his nose, the exhaustion coming at him at full blast. “Whatever. I’m gonna head out to get some coffee. You think it’s a good idea to leave them alone for ten minutes?”

 

_“Good luck with that. You come back and the library’ll look like someone nuked the damn place. Remind me again on why you’re doing this?”_

 

“Even though Meg hates poetry, she’s actually good at quickly understanding the idea of most of ‘em. And Cas is … well, Cas. He’s a sucker for poetry. We can pass his class together, so we won’t have to deal with him next semester.”

 

_“I don’t go to your school and even I know that that Crowley ass is a … a dick.”_

 

“That makes absolutely no sense, Dean.”

 

_“So?”_

 

Sam pockets his phone and approaches the couple. “Hey guys. I’m gonna grab some coffee. You guys want anything specific?” he inquires.

 

“Yeah, how ‘bout you get me coffee with a dash of sanity and a ticket outta here?” Meg says with her usual sass.

 

Without looking at any of them, Castiel inserts, “Get her black coffee; it suits her soul.”

 

“Get Romeo a doughnut, so he can stick his — ”

 

“Hey, hey! You guys have been at it ever since we got here. I’m surprised the librarian hasn’t come over to yell at us.” Sam looks at the librarian who is busy reading Cosmo.

 

Meg smirks at Castiel who is blatantly ignoring her. She knows he can feel her gaze upon him. “That’s ‘cause she has a crush on little Clarence over here.”

 

Castiel sighs, irritable. “I merely helped her in unloading the hefty amount of books onto the shelves because she was struggling,” he explains himself.

 

“Yeah, you unloaded all right.”

 

“I’m sorry, but do I detect a hint of envy here, Meg?”

 

Sam takes this as his cue to leave.

 

She scoffs at that. “Stuff it, pretty boy.”

 

—

 

_“Dude, how long have you been at the coffeeshop?”_

 

Sam downs his coffee and munches on a bagel, reading over a piece by Dickinson. “25 minutes and counting.”

 

_“I don’t blame you, man.”_

—

 

Meg doesn’t realize she’s scowling at the poem.

 

Castiel notices. “What are you reading now?” he asks.

 

She wants to ignore him, but he really likes literature and shit. The only way she can get out of this situation she was forcibly shoved in is to find the best out of it — passing and getting the hell out of Crowley’s class.

 

Without a word, she passes him the paper. He glances at her once before picking it up. “I’m going to read it aloud.” He says it in a way that he’s asking permission.

 

“Whatever floats your boat, Clarence.” It’s a huge mistake on her part, however, but it’s too late now because he starts reading.

 

 _“The slightest movement, you’re here; the quietest whispers, I hear/the softest brush, I feel; the soothing words, I heal.”_ His voice is low, and the gravelly texture of his voice emphasizes. She feels his voice intertwine with the words.

 

This is why it is a mistake. Whenever he reads, his voice gets so engrossed with the words, the sentences. His voice brings out the poem and she can feel herself closing her brown eyes just to listen to him. Besides the blue of his eyes, the sound of his voice manages to affect her in so many ways whether it be positively or negatively.

 

Meg will never admit it to him. Never. He is already too familiar with her vulnerabilities and the personal pieces of her. This is something she can keep to herself, and she feels secured knowing that.

 

He is still reading on, _“Those slights, those softs, those little things, oh how they are you/hidden/noticeable/there.”_ He sets the paper down and there are his blue eyes again. “What is it in particular that you do not comprehend with this piece?”

 

She shakes her head. “No, I understand now,” she murmurs.

 

She can feel his gaze upon her as she looks over the next reading Crowley assigned them.

 

—

 

“Meg, we may have our … differences, but at least we can agree on one thing.”

 

“And what would that be, Clarence?”

 

“Crowley _is_ an ass-butt.”

 

“Oh really?”

 

“Did I say something wrong?”

 

“It’s — It’s ass _hole_ , Cas.”

 

“No, but I meant ass-butt.”

 

“Hmm, same smell, right?”

 

He wrinkles his nose so cutely. She has to laugh.

 

—

 

She scoots her chair adjacent to his so that she can read the essay. Professor Crowley assigned them five poems to analyze and two essays to find the approach used and through what other approach it could be interpreted.

 

“I purposely lost those essays as a means to rebel against Crowley,” Meg tells him, relishing the feel of his arm brushing against hers.

 

Castiel clears his throat, face tinged with a slight pink. It’s a laughable matter because earlier, he was ready to shoot slews of insults her way without running out of breath. Now he’s acting like the poor little virgin he once was.

 

Which he quickly grew out of.

 

“Somethin’ the matter, sweetie?” Oh, but she knows. And she’s evil for it.

 

He blurts out, “You smell really nice.”

 

She smirks. _Hook, line._ She leans her head upwards, purposely letting her lips brush the corner of his mouth and right cheek before stopping next to his ear.

 

“Is that really all you have to say?” she whispers, breath hot.

 

His hand twitches next to her thigh.

 

_Sinker._

 

—

 

The giant looks confused. His hand is holding a tray filled with the items they allegedly ordered. He sets it down and clears his throat to get their attention.

 

“Uhhh, did I miss anything?” Sam asks hesitantly.

 

Meg’s is still seated on her chair, but her legs are resting on top of Castiel’s lap. Her hands are clasped upon his right shoulder, chin on top of them. His right hand is placed on her mid-thighs, thumb stroking the bare skin exposed by her leather miniskirt. His other hand is holding the essay they’re reading together silently.

 

“We’re currently going over the second essay,” Castiel answers without a glance.

 

“Which translates into ‘Yeah, fucker, you did,’” Meg inputs, also without a glance.

 

Sam rubs the nape of his neck. “Yeah, um, there was some complications — ”

 

“Save the bullshit, take a seat, and suffer with us.”

 

“Doesn’t look like you’re doing much suffering over there,” Sam mutters underneath his breath.

 

—

 

_“What the fuck?”_

 

“My sentiments exactly, Dean. But seriously, it doesn’t seem like it, but they look like they’re seconds away from ravaging each other,” Sam explains. He takes another sip of his coffee.

 

_“Sam, what the hell happened while you were gone?”_

 

“I’m kinda not surprised, though. I mean, when they were together, they were … well, disgusting.” He thinks about that for a moment. “Actually, they were pretty adorable in an uncomfortable kind of way.”

 

_“Yeah, if you call Cas talking about her constantly and Meg shoving her tongue down his throat with him reciprocating instantly, then sure. Fucking. Adorable.”_

 

Sam disposes his coffee at a nearby trashcan. “Well, at least they’re — ”

 

_“HOLY SHIT, MY EYES!”_

 

Sam has to pull the phone away before returning to his older brother. “Dean, what the hell?”

 

_“I need some Borax to cleanse out the shit I just saw — oh God, that was — I think … I think I need to vomit.”_

 

The tall Winchester walks into the fictional section of the library. “Can you just calm down and tell me what happened?” he hisses into the phone. He begins getting a headache, and his hands are jittery from all the coffee he consumed.

 

_“I passed by the library, and from the window — and the window, Sam? Really? — I saw Meg’s hand on his — Castiel’s lips were — dude, I think I vomited in my — aw, shit — mouth a little.”_

 

Sam’s eyes widen. “Dean,” he whispers. He looks around and then cups his hand around the phone to hide his voice. “Dean, are they … getting each other off?”

 

_“ … What the fuck are you — Sammy, they’re in a library for God’s sake!”_

 

“You made it seem like they are!”

 

 _“Just check it out for yourself! I’m gonna buy some Borax.”_ click.

 

Immediately, Sam makes his way back to the table. His speed slows down as soon as he catches sight of them and stops. He sighs and rolls his eyes.

 

“They’re in the same position,” he says to himself. “Jesus, Dean. Overreacting much?”

 

Castiel clears his throat for the umpteenth time after Meg casually lets her fingers dance on his thigh.

 

“Need a cough drop there, buddy?” Meg asks, smirking behind his shoulder. “Or do you want me to take the wheel here?”

 

“You know perfectly well what you’re doing, Meg.”

 

The smirk broadens.

 

Unfortunately, her mood dissipates when Sam comes back from his continuous reports to Dean. It’s pretty obvious to her considering how the two brothers never leave each other’s hips. And who else would Sam be calling every fifteen minutes? Surely it isn’t a girl. There isn’t a girl in the world who could handle a Winchester.

 

Meg glances at the large oaf typing on his laptop.

 

Just being within his presence makes her feel like she needs an inhaler.

 

“Excuse me,” a voice says behind her.

 

All three pairs of eyes look at the librarian who is holding a stack of magazines. She’s glaring at Meg behind her spectacles, and Meg is pretty sure she knows what this is about.

 

“I do not tolerate PDA in this library,” she chastises.

 

“I don’t see any PDA happening around here,” Meg replies innocently. She regards the boys. “Do you guys?”

 

Sam gives her a look, and Castiel is genuinely confused. Adorable little treetopper.

 

Little Miss Four-Eyes’s glare hardens. “Your legs. And your hands, the both of you. They are placed on inappropriate areas. Also, young lady, your skirt is riding up.”

 

“But how exactly is that public display of affection?” Castiel inquires before Meg could continue playing around with her. “If I understand the term correctly, wouldn’t that include kissing and cuddling?” Yeah. He’s still confused.

 

Once Castiel speaks directly at her, the librarian’s cheeks flush. She raises a fist and coughs once behind it. “Well, y-yes of course. But you see, PDAs also include what this girl is doing right now with her hands. And your hand is placed upon her thigh, much too close to her … her area.”

 

“Did you just call me a girl, woman?” Meg snaps.

 

Castiel glances down at his hand. “But my hand isn’t doing anything inappropriate,” he says. He holds it up. “Is it?”

 

Sam looks like he’s trying to ignore the nonsense happening.

 

The librarian looks like she’s about to faint from Castiel’s adorable quirks. It’s sickening seeing someone fawn over the clueless man’s mannerisms.

 

“I have also come to inform you” — oh, who could “you” be? — “that the library is closing in 10 minutes. I need to secure the area, so I must ask you to leave. I apologize for the inconvenience. There will be a book signing tomorrow. I need to prepare for that, as well.”

 

“No, wait,” Sam protests, exhaustion prominent on his features. “We’re not finished studying. We can help you set up if you’d like. Just let us — ”

 

Meg couldn’t stand remaining in the library for five more seconds. She wants to hightail out of here and ravage the man she is almost sitting on top of.

 

She flashes a grin, white teeth flashing. “No problem at all, Nancy.”

 

“My name’s not — ”

 

“We’ll be out of your hair soon enough. I’ll help you air out the testosterone.” Meg stands up from the chair and picks up her coffee.

 

“Meg, we still have more poems to go through,” Sam says.

 

“Sam, is it really that difficult for you to shut the fuck up? We got this. Let's roll, Clarence.” She wraps an arm around his waist briefly and gazes at him underneath her eyelashes.

 

Castiel shifts uncomfortably underneath her stare and collects the papers without a word.  

 

Sam looks like he’s about to complain but then sighs, relenting. He mutters curses underneath his breath and gathers his belongings as well.

 

As soon as they exit the library, Meg is hit with the cool breeze of the night air. She spots a pizza restaurant conveniently two blocks away from a shady motel. A smirk forms on her red lips. She slides her coy eyes over to her man.

 

He senses her sensual gaze and returns it with a look of confusion. He tilts his head to the side in that adorable way. With her head, she gestures over to what she found. He follows along her line of vision and realization comes into place.

 

Castiel looks back at Sam who is demanding Dean to come pick him up. Meg finds it strange  and pathetic that he still has to get picked up by his older brother.

 

The smirk turns into a feral grin once she sees him nod once.

 

On the day of exams, Castiel passes Professor Crowley’s class with flying colors, which is needless to say. He can finally add another class pertaining to his major, Theology. Unfortunately, Meg fails his exam — she knows it’s because he loathes her greatly _especially_ since she answered those three essay questions with ease (but she may or may not subtlety added in that he was a dick underneath his name) — but she doesn’t mind taking those night classes the college offers to make up that credit.

 

Oh, and yes, Sam passes as well. He immediately takes the advanced course pertaining to the same subject. Unbeknownst to him, Professor Crowley is teaching for that course next semester.

 

Dean finally buys Borax. Sam is unsure what he’s going to do with it. It probably has to do with another fellow dick.

 

 

   

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys understand the little reference I made at the end. I honestly didn't know how to end it.  
> The poem Castiel read was written by little ol' me. Not that great. 
> 
> I might be partial to continuing this. Just little vignettes and such. Some feedback would be helpful!


End file.
